The Carnival is Over
by Xarra
Summary: 3 2, after series ficlet. Trowa and Duo now live in the circus.


**The Carnival is Over**

AN: 'The Carnival is Over' is © Dead Can Dance. Old ficlet from around 2003. Enjoy. :)

[Outside

The storm clouds gathering,

Moved silently along the dusty boulevard.

Where flowers turning crane their fragile necks]

/Pit, pat, pit, pat./ A paintbrush of chestnut hair rubbed against the window pane, tracing the passage of raindrops down the glass which muffled the shouts from outside. Leaning back against the window alcove, the owner of the braid gazed through the tear-covered window, violet eyes uncharacteristically solemn as he watched the big tent topple to the ground.

Yesterday, he'd been out there, arms - and mouth - full of the sweet candy and hot food that the vendors sold, caught up in the magic of the circus, only diminished slightly by the nervousness of watching Trowa and Catherine in their knife act. Shinigami was perfectly willing to face his own death, but to face Trowa's. Unacceptable.

/Duo, you're sounding like Heero. Cheer up./ he told himself forcefully, no little worried by that fact, watching the empty rubbish tumble along the grass, then be trampled by the retreating lorries and trailers that housed the animals and equipment. /OK, that's enough. That is enough./

/But there's nothing to do!/ his mind shot back at him, forcing him to gaze round the small trailer he'd been sharing with Trowa for the last few days. He'd cleaned it, twice, already, fixed the leak in the ceiling, organised the books in alphabetical order, skimmed the book titles and decided not to bother trying to read one for fear of sleep, even done the washing up.

He had to admit he probably had the best deal, his boyfriend was out in the storm, helping to calm the lions as they were loaded up to be taken to the winter resting grounds while he was in the relatively comfortable trailer. But that didn't make him feel any better! Uncurling from the window seat, the Deathscythe pilot looked longingly at his own waterproof jacket hanging forlornly by the door. But Trowa had told him to stay in the trailer. He'd 'get in the way' of everyone who knew how to remove the circus. As the Latin boy had said succulently, 'You've got the demolishing down to an art form, koi, but we need to put it up again in the future.'

So he stayed, gazing out the window again for a glimpse of his green eyed lover and tried playing noughts-and-crosses on the glass where it was steamed up from his breath.

[So they can in turn

Reach up and kiss the sky.

They are driven by a strange desire

Unseen by the human eye

Someone is calling.]

The attempts at playing with a 4x4 grid, then a 5x5 grid actually managed to distract the braided pilot for more than a few minutes, his eyelids narrowed in concentration, he'd always left strategy to Heero and Quatre, and playing against himself made it even more interesting. He'd try his hardest to win with both sides - which usually lead to a draw, and it was during a particularly tense moment a voice murmured from behind him.

"Warm me up?"

Cold hands ran across Duo's cheek, and he let out a soft eep, turning with deadly swiftness to face Trowa. "I was in the middle of a game!"

"Oh?" A slender finger reached out, tracing a circle in an empty space, then scoring a line through the five hoops that lay in a row. "Looks like you've finished."

"It was cross's turn! I was just about to block that!" Duo retorted, turning so his back was against the cold window before he bestowed a brilliant grin onto his partner, spreading his knees so the wet cold Heavyarms pilot could return his hug. "Baka, you're soaking!"

Trowa's lips quirked slightly in what amounted to a laugh, one hand lifting to brush the wet bang out of the way, revealing - for once - both of his emerald eyes, sparkling with the smile his features couldn't betray. "/I'm/ the baka?" he asked incredulously, "/I/ don't feed the lions when I've just cleaned out the horses. And..."

Duo let out a soft 'Hn' before cutting off Trowa's litany with a soft kiss. As they parted, Duo pointed sternly to the cupboard, "Warm fluffy towels in there. Strip and dry."

"Not just strip?" Trowa murmured, his soft voice sensual, the water running from his hair over his cheeks like the falling rain, tracing the pale skin.

Leaning forward, the braided partner kissed a drop, running his tongue up the side of his lover's cheek, sucking the skin for a moment before pulling back. "I didn't say get dressed again did I?" he answered mischievously, purple eyes glinting with desire and teasing.

[I remember when you held my hand

In the park we would play when the circus came to town.

Look! Over here.]

Duo watched as Trowa pulled back, each movement precise and sparing as he peeled off the damp green sweater, revealing the slim taunt body beneath. The scars that ran across the body were reminders of the war they'd fought, before and during OZ's reign. He knew - better than anyone except maybe Quatre - that Trowa's scars went far beneath the surface.

He knew precisely where, when and how a few scars on that whiplike body had been inflicted, and who by. He'd killed the bastards who'd created them after all. He forced his fist to relax, trying to forget the feel of Deathscythe's weapon in his hand. He'd 'cleaned up' after the end of the war, angry at himself more than anything. They'd all used space as little more than a playground. He knew he'd been treating the mission as a game, fooling himself just to save what little sanity remained, and he'd hated himself for it.

He shook his head slightly to dispel the memories, concentrating instead on Trowa's lithe movements as he slipped out of the soaking jeans, tossing them in the direction of the laundry pile, raising an eyebrow at the empty basket. "You must have been bored."

"I was." Duo waved a hand carelessly, "I also washed up, tided up, made up sandwiches for tea - and not my banana, jelly and cornflakes ones," he added, holding up a hand to forestall Trowa's look of disgust, "And now I just want to /get/ up." He grinned lewdly, gesturing at Trowa's boxers.

Trowa let his lips slip up a little bit further, reaching into the cupboard for a pale blue towel and started drying off his legs in slow careful motions, hypnotising Duo's eyes in the caressing rhythm. "You could get up and help dry me." he said softly, his nut-brown hair falling into his eyes as he glanced upwards.

[Outside

The circus gathering

Moved silently along the rainswept boulevard.

The procession moved on the shouting is over

The fabulous freaks are leaving town.]

Smiling, Duo stood, grabbing another towel as he collapsed to his knees, taking the place of Trowa's towel as he lovingly stroked the calf, up to the thigh and back down again, avoiding the yellow hem of the slowly tenting material.

"Are Heavyarms and 'Scythe loaded up too?" Duo asked suddenly, glancing upwards to meet the sight of his lover stretching sensuously as he toweled across his chest.

"Hmmm? Yes." The other pilot replied, turning twin emeralds onto Duo.

"With tauplin?"

"Of course."

"Good."

They smiled at each other for a long moment before Trowa's gaze flittered towards the window, disappintment warring with eagerness in the cat-green eyes. "Looks like we're already off." He reached down to still Duo's hand, grasping it firmly. "Later."

"Nope, not 'later', koi." the braided pilot murmured, leaning forward to lap a stray drop of water. He reached up suddenly, teasingly to grope at the suddenly harder Trowa. "I can tell you're as impatient as I am."

Trowa sighed in resignation, pulling his partner to his feet. "Affirmative." he said softly, disappointment winning in his tone as he leant in to kiss Duo deeply, rubbing his tongue over the soft lips. "However, we have to leave with everyone else. The Gundams are too obvious unless in a legitimate convoy."

"Aw, man!" the violet eyed man retorted, pulling back just enough to speak, running a lazy hand over Trowa's back before lifting his head further a Trowa's resistance. "Fine, fine..." he muttered, pushing his fingers through the thick braid hanging over his shoulder. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered, resting his head on the slender shoulder.

"Because you love me." Trowa replied, kissing the exposed ear softly before reaching for a clean pair of trousers.

"Oh, yeah. That's it." Duo's teasing voice was muffled as he nuzzled against his lover's neck, nipping gently at the skin.

[They are driven by a strange desire

Unseen by the human eye.

The carnival is over.]

Trowa shook his head, disentangling himself from his eager lover. "Duo, later. I promise." He ran his fingers slowly through his hair, the elegant fingers dancing through the long quiff. "I need to wash this anyway."

"Promise?"

"'I run and hide, but I never lie'?" Trowa quoted gently, stroking Duo's cheek as he grabbed a pastel yellow turtleneck, slipping it on with the ease of long practise. "I'll drive."

Duo nodded, wrapping his arms back around Trowa for a long moment, rubbing his hands over the warm wool. "A-OK." he answered cheerfully, "I'll come along in the car too. It's boring back here."

Before Trowa could request that he please not bring the portable TV/VCR, his entire CD and VCR collections and a few other distracting items, Hurricane Duo had whipped through the trailer gathering up things and dashing out into the slowly dying storm.

The fact that his lover could now afford to have the possessions was yet another reminder to the Latin boy that the war was more-or-less over, and as he snatched up the car keys, leaping with his usual aerobatic elegance, he spared a glance at the mechanical giants lying silent on the trailer behind.

The Gundams had been the stars of the war. Now it was over. He'd long suspected the mechs were at least partly sentient, Quatre had been certain Sandrock was partly alive at least, so how could they, he, destroy them? Destroying OZ by self-destruction was one thing, destroying a friend for purely tactical reasons when tactics weren't needed, another.

They weren't any use now... They got in the way of travelling... They were a nusance to service and hide... His solider mentality told him to scrap obsolete weapons, but when he watched his lover lovingly polish 'Scyth, and he carefully checked Heavyarms over for damage from the circus's journeys, polishing the smallest scratch, he knew he could no more destroy them than hurt his koi, his shinigami. The war was over, but that didn't mean acquaintances had to be. He allowed himself a tiny smile, turning to the truck's doors. Some had only just begun.

[We sat and watched

As the moon rose again

For the very first time.]

"Hey, Trowa, you're getting soaking again!" He looked up to see Duo's familiar grin leaning out the window, the younger boy tipping out the window, "Baka! Get in the truck already!"

The familiar teasing made the pilot's smile become full fledged. "I'm coming."

"Later." Duo's voice was full of promises as Trowa climbed into the cab, and the braid-end stroked across his face suggestively, running across his lips, "You're coming later."

"Hn."

The braided pilot's grin faded to a loving smile as he noticed Trowa's own curved lips. "Let's go, koi. We'll have plenty of time to... relax... at the winter grounds."

"That we will." the Heavyarms pilot replied, his cats-eyes glinting as he started up the engine, moving out from the muddy field. /The war may be over, but some things... some things have only just begun."

The trailer swung onto the road with Duo's loud rock music blaring out the speakers, echoing onto the hills. /And much as I love him, some things really /have/ to stop./


End file.
